The Jewel Game
by mrsmollyhooperholmes
Summary: Sherlock and Molly have defeated Moriarty, and Sherlock is dead to the world. They can relax now, knowing that Mycroft will protect them and hunt down Moriarty's web. But what they don't know is that Jim had a little sister... Beta-d by the lovely CompanionToMisterHolmes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first Sherlock story (I've actually published before). I hope I do it justice.**

**All my love and all my thanks plus more to the lovely CompanionToMisterHolmes for beta-ing this story. You're an angel.**

**I do not, unfortunately, own any of the characters except the very first two you meet (aka not Sherlock, Molly, John, Mrs Hudson, Anthea, Mycroft, so on and so forth, etc, etc.) I only own the characters I made up (duh) and the plot line. **

**mrsmollyhooperholmes**

**PS If I start to ramble, please feel free to leave a review telling me to stop. Well, review anyways, but...oh dear, here I go again.**

**Enjoy!**

_"My lady?"_

_"Alexander, you had best pray that the news you bear is worth interrupting my meditation for," the seventeen-year-old girl answered, never opening her eyes._

_"My…my lady, your brother is dead."_

_The girl merely smiled, but there was no warmth._

_"Oh, is he? Finally. Did Svensky get to him?"_

_"No, my lady. He had a confrontation with Sherlock Holmes."_

_"Ah. And this Holmes fellow killed him?"_

_"No, my lady. He shot himself so that Mr Holmes would jump from the roof of St Bart's."_

_"But he isn't dead?"_

_"The world believes him to be…"_

_"Who knows?"_

_"A pathologist named Molly Hooper."_

_"Get me her info. And Alexander?"_

_"Yes, my lady?"_

_"Don't interrupt my meditation ever again. I just learned a new Krav Maga move, and I'd be happy to test it on someone."_

_Alexander gulped and shut the door quietly, leaving the girl cross-legged on the floor, eyes still closed._

Molly Hooper bent over the cadaver she was stitching up.

"Doctor Hooper?" said a rich baritone voice. "The blood results have come back."

"And?" she asked, straightening to look into the grey-blue-green (she could never tell) eyes of Sherlock Holmes, currently in disguise as Sheldon Hinton, a forensic pathologist technician, assigned to one Doctor Molly Hooper.

"Lily of the valley-a deadly poison-as well as traces of mercury, although the stomach contents show that he ate fish before death, so that's not really an issue, except that the mercury levels are far too high to be simply salmon. Tell Lestrade to investigate the wife's best friend. I believe that he'll find something interesting."

"Okay, Sherlock," Molly said absently, bending back over the cadaver.

"Who's Sherlock?" asked Sherlock innocently.

"Oh! No one. Um, I'll tell DI Lestrade, Sher-Sheldon."

Sheldon-not-Sherlock glanced at the clock.

"Your shift's over," he noted.

"Yeah, I'll be done in a second."

Sherlock frowned. "Let's go."

Molly put the last stitch in the body and straightened.

"Okay, go put him away. I shall finish the paperwork."

Fifteen minutes later, they were ready to leave.

_"ALEXANDER!"_

_The slim blonde figure called out her servant's name as she clicked down the hall in a grey suit (Westwood, a gift from Jim) and four-inch-high stilettos (black, glossy, a gift from Mother when she had her first seduction lesson, two years and seventeen days before), tapping a message on her phone._

_The pose and concentration were reminiscent of Anthea. In fact, the night of John Watson's meeting with the PA to Mycroft Holmes, Jim had arranged for her to replace Anthea. The real woman had been captured and drugged so that she wouldn't remember a thing._

_"I want cameras installed in that…pathologist's lab. A new technician just started, Sheldon Hinton…the name and description seems a bit too like Sherlock Holmes for my liking. I also want cameras in every room in Molly Hooper's flat, except the bathroom. I have no desire to see that. Get Jason on that, quickly. And I want the name on my birth certificate changed. I'm not going to be Gina Eliza Moriarty any more. No, from now on, I shall be Jane Irene Moriarty."_

_"Yes, my lady. Anything else?"_

_"Get me a job as a receptionist at St Bart's. Say I'm twenty-two, I can look it. I want to keep an eye on that pathologist and her little technician."_

_"Yes, my lady."_

_As Alexander hurried away, Jane typed the final character into her phone and sent a text._

_"It's gonna start soon, Sherlock, the second fall. But don't be scared…oh, wait, do," she muttered. "Jim was a softie. I won't fail. I'll kill you, Sherlock Holmes, and I'll make sure you stay dead."_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Once more, thank you to the lovely CompanionToMisterHolmes for beta-ing. She helps so much when it comes to these kinds of things.**

**I do not own anything but the plot and Jane.**

On the long Tube ride to Molly's flat, Sherlock quietly deduced his fellow passengers, much to the pathologist's delight and amusement.

"The man sitting three seats down on the left? He is a…postman, been married…happily…for fifteen years, and has two…no, three children. He's been away on a trip and can't wait to go home."

Molly didn't even ask, just smiled, and the train slowed to a stop at Paddington Station, her stop. She and Sherlock climbed off.

As they walked to her flat, Sherlock was silent, and bit his lip several times as if working out a problem. Molly assumed that it was the lily of the valley poisoning case and said nothing, merely steering him around street corners, up the stairs of her building, and up to her first floor flat.

Sherlock sat heavily on the couch. Molly didn't bother him. She went to make supper: chicken soup and toast, with tinned peaches for dessert.

Molly had just set the soup to simmer when Sherlock ghosted into the kitchen and stood behind her. Molly, having not heard him, turned and jumped, then put a hand on her heart.

"Sherlock, you scared me," she scolded, smiling to take the sting out of her words.

He said nothing, just looked at her as he had in the lab before the Fall, three months ago. Molly frowned.

"Sherlock, what is it? What do you need?" she asked, giving in to the sense of déjà vu that swept over her.

"Molly…why do you love me?" Sherlock asked her.

Molly felt her cheeks heat up.

"I…um, I don't know what you're t-talking about," she stammered. "L-love you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Molly, please. Don't try to prevaricate. You know who I am; it doesn't work."

"Oh, fine," Molly muttered. "I love you. Why? Because despite your ill treatment of me, I see how you treat others, like Mrs Hudson, and I think that deep down, you're really a sweet guy; you just choose not to show it. Also, you're super smart, and knowledge is extremely attractive. At least, it is to me. And, um, you actually are r-rather attractive…"

Molly trailed off, blushing furiously.

"So, sweet and smart…I think, Molly, that, um…"

For what was probably the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes was at a loss for words. He looked so…lost that Molly took pity on him.

"Sherlock, it's okay. You don't have to say anything. Why don't you go sit at the table?"

Without warning, Sherlock leaned down and kissed Molly square on the lips. Molly gasped and, after a frozen moment, began to kiss him.

When they separated, Molly sighed. Somehow, her hands had ended up twined in Sherlock's hair. His hands were on her waist.

"That was sort of out of character, Sherlock," Molly remarked.

"Mmm. Maybe it's time to change my character then, huh?"

Molly blinked. "Oh. Um."

The thought of a sentimental Sherlock was a bit overwhelming.

"Not too much, though. I mean, I'm not going to be all sappy, fluffy, and sentimental; that's just not my nature. But for you," he said, resting his forehead on Molly's, "I'll make an effort."

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Molly sighed.

"You can go into the bedroom if you want. I'll be a moment, and then I'll come get you. Hurry."

So Sherlock hid in the bedroom as Molly opened the door.

To her shock, it was John. His eyes were empty. Better than broken, Molly supposed, but she ached to help the ex-Army doctor.

"Oh! Hullo, John, I was just, uh, making dinner. Did you need something?"

"Yeah. Um, Mrs Hudson sent these over with her love."

He held out a plate of brownies, and Molly smiled.

"Well, tell her I said hullo. And John?"

John turned back to her, and she stepped forward to give him a very sympathetic hug.

"I'm so sorry, John. If there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, just let me know, okay?"

"Okay, Molly," John said, turned, and left.

Sherlock was sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

"Sherlock, come eat."

The meal was silent, and after, Sherlock and Molly went straight to their beds, Sherlock in the guest room, Molly in her bed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Jane sat behind a cherry wood desk-her late father's- looking at the feed from the cameras installed in the lab._

_She noticed that the sections that represented the flat cameras were still dark, so she called out._

_"Alexander, are the cameras installed yet?"_

_"In the lab they are, my lady. Not in the flat, yet."_

_She rolled her eyes._

_"Well, tell Jason to hurry up. If you need me to arrange for a body to show up in the morgue, I can. Molly's on call, if I'm not mistaken."_

_"Her next shift is tomorrow morning. Can it wait that long, my lady?"_

_"Don't you dare patronise me, Alexander," Jane snapped, grey eyes flashing. "It can wait. Am I employed at St Bart's?"_

_"Yes, my lady. Your name shall be Jane Gardner. You start tomorrow."_

_"Good. You may go, Alexander."_

_He left, and Jane grinned evilly at her phone._

_"Time to divide and conquer Sherlock and his pathologist."_

_A humourless laugh escaped her._

_"_Veni, vidi, vici," _she muttered, and went to go touch up on her receptionist skills._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I guess all I have to say is thank you to those of you who reviewed. And to all of those who didn't: Review! I know you read this, I can see you on my traffic stats!**

**And, of course, as always, thank you ever so much to the lovely CompanionToMisterHolmes for being the best beta ever. Hugglez :)**

**I do not own anything but the plot and Jane.**

Molly stirred in Sherlock's arms, snuggling closer to his chest, enjoying the warmth of both him and her winter duvet. He pulled her closer…

And she shot upright, finally awake enough to realise that _Sherlock bloody Holmes_ was in her _bed_, and she hadn't invited him there.

"Sherlock!" she cried, tugging her (too small, too thin) tank top down from where it had ridden up to her mid-stomach and reaching for the hem of her black bike shorts to tug them down. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sherlock slowly sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looked so adorable-hair rumpled, half asleep-that Molly's heart melted.

"I had a nightmare," he muttered. "You told me I could sleep in your bed."

Molly groaned, decided not to argue that anything said when she was half-asleep didn't count, and got out of bed. She wrapped a pink satin dressing gown around herself before padding to the kitchen to make breakfast.

When both Sherlock and Molly were fed, showered (though not at the same time-Molly might have been head over heels for the man, but there were still limits), dressed, and ready for work, Sherlock managed to corner Molly in the kitchen. He then proceeded to pepper her with kisses, ignoring her weak protests and half-hearted attempts to push him away.

After a few minutes, Molly managed to escape and get Sherlock out the door without further incident.

/\/\/\/\/\/

As Molly and 'Sheldon' entered St Bart's, a pretty blonde receptionist, who was chatting on the phone as she typed, faster than Sherlock on caffeine (and that was _fast_), drew their attention. Her nameplate read _Jane_.

"Yes. Yes, I do. Okay. If we could have those installed…no, later today and up and running by this evening, that would be lovely, Alexander. Mmm. Okay. Goodbye."

She hung up, finished typing, looked up at them, and smiled dazzlingly.

"Sorry. Can I help you?" she asked cheerfully.

"N-no," Molly stammered, nervous for no apparent reason.

"Oh, wait," the receptionist suddenly said. "Are you Sheldon Hinton?"

"Yes," Sherlock said.

"A message came in from someone. Here. Sorry, I couldn't get a name, just initials."

She rose and handed Sherlock a red Post-It note with nine words scrawled on it.

_The debt will be repaid. IOU-plus interest. –JM_

Sherlock froze. The receptionist didn't notice, or chose to ignore, and smiled.

"Have a nice day."

Molly smiled at her and led Sherlock away.

When they were in the morgue, Sherlock frowned, staring into space as if he had seen a ghost.

"Let me see it," Molly prompted, gently taking the note and reading it.

Her face was ashen by the time she was done.

"But…but Moriarty's dead. I did the post-mortem myself, for real! I went up to the roof and checked his pulse…his carotid pulse too, so no faking that it was stopped. It…it was him. It was Jim, I'm positive. There was a birthmark that no-one else could have had…."

Molly trailed off, and then faked a bright smile.

"Well, it's probably just someone trying to scare us. James Moriarty is dead. He's the only JM I can think of. There's nobody left to hurt us."

"You're right," Sherlock finally said. "But still…this worries me."

"Well, we'll worry about it later. Right now, we have…four post-mortems to do."

"Yes, Doctor Hooper," Sherlock joked, back to his sarcastic self. Molly smiled.

"I bet I can do a post-mortem faster than you."

"Oh, you're on!" Sherlock grinned, and the race began.

/\/\/\/\

_Jane, sitting at her computer, smiled as she watched the footage from the morgue._

_"Well, technically, you two are right. _James_ Moriarty is dead. But he's not the only JM, now is he, dears? Oh, no. There are advantages to being the little sister…."_

_She picked up the phone and dialled Alexander._

_"Yes, my lady?" he answered._

_"Alexander, I've learned that it's better to overestimate your enemies. They'll always disappoint you, and you'll be suspicious, but at least your arse will be safe. Our dear Sherlock hasn't yet learned that lesson. What's more, he's playing with fire again," she said, careful not to let anyone overhear her. "I guess we have to teach him that fire burns, and if there's a Moriarty alive to guide it, that fire will burn his heart out."_

_Jane hung up, not bothering to wait for an answer, and turned to the woman waiting at the desk._

_"Sorry. Can I help you?"_


End file.
